I dislike not knowing things,

And believe mystery is the worst thing on the planet,

Because a lack of information to me,

Is stupendous and horrid, I can’t stand it.

There’s a part of me that always wants to be correct,

But I’m wrong often,

I’ll admit that.

So I sit here in my room,

Multiple tabs open on my browser,

A fear of not knowing means that I’m stuck,

Constantly clicking on links, and turning pages, and feeling a little prouder,

And often that means I don’t spend time with my friends, who are perhaps my best teachers,

Because there’s a ticking time-bomb in my brain, telling me about

That Wikipedia link that waits to be clicked on,

The Guardian tab that’s been open for a week,

The YouTube video I’ve missed out on,

And the entertainment, I turn to, for comic relief.

That’s a problem for me,

Because often I find,

That in a quest to learn about things out there,

I miss on small moments, and small things that happen in the moment.

My brain appears to care too much about information,

But has started to forget about details, people’s interests, people’s lives.

I don’t know how to correct this,

So I decided to write a poem,

In some abstract hope that maybe,

My brain would see this,

And hopefully that would show him.




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